Tyro
by Onyxx-09
Summary: Anonymous fic request: What about a fic with Kit Walker (AHS asylum) where the reader is better at working in the mechanic's shop than kit is and kit is always frustrated about how perfect they are at everything and how cute they look with grease smeared on their cheeks and it ends with whatever you want just no angst please my heart can't take it


_**This is an old fic I wrote when I had been into this show. This was my first of only two fics for this fandom.**_ ** _(October 16 2016)_**

* * *

His first few weeks are… _adequate_.

He's nervous, of course, ill-quipped with anything salaried and not too _many_ expectations. He's given a small, singular locker for his things and keys; he's told that he can park his vehicle around back and to ignore the chimes about "fresh meat" from the other employees. He's supposed to bring his own tools—and that's when he _really_ starts to panic. There's a reason he applied for this position anyway. The place absolutely _reeks_ of diesel, saw dust, and rustic metal. His mother would hate it, he knew.

There's an insipid white and garnet red sign above the garage door that labels Woodall Gasoline. And on his first day, there had been a man sitting at the desk facing the open garage door, lilting off-key to Johnny Cash on the radio at his desk. His tag simply reads _Kit_. This must be his new boss. Kit blinks, caught unaware, clears his throat, fumbles to turn down his radio. He stands and extends his hand after introducing himself—and he is _tall_ —with a bounce of his heels and a James Dean smile.

The small garage is tucked in a reasonably populated side of town, not too desolate and not too dense, where cream-skinned girls in crepe skirts and polyester, cotton voile bathing suits, riding by in the bed of trucks and piled into open-top Corvettes. It's two years later since getting the position. The garage-gas station is lumber wood and steel and not very tastefully decorated; gas puddles permanent on the concrete floor where debilitate vehicles leaked, waiting for alleviation. And it isn't the _best_ place—not where the most _topnotch_ engineers have stemmed from, and not the most financially endowed—but it's just enough. It's just enough that there is a steadily flow of customers to work on for a budding engineer. So upon his first day of work, which was appointed that day, Kit clasped a hand on the young man's shoulder and with a teasing grin, asked if he was prepared because it was Saturday and this is one of the days that they received traffic from the rush of customers, and the young man grinned and rubbed his hands together, welcoming the opportunity. Kit had thought it was all praise, that the kid was about to be put up against skilled others and the five o'clock afternoon rush, and would get a rude awakening from his high horse from being the best, actually, quite the _only_ best mechanic in his family. This young soul needed an apprentice, and he was quite ready to take the role as mentor.

Yeah, Kit had been ready. There would be frustration, pouting lips and clenched fists and plenty, plenty of ruined, oil-stained slacks. He takes the young man in immediately for the open position, all too eager. Yeah, Kit had been ready, except—

 _Except_ —

Except that doesn't happen. Not _quite_. The boy is barely seventeen and he's gotten oil slicked up to his elbows, waist-deep in the open bonnet of a truck. Kit catches the sight this as he comes from the restroom, drying his hands on a towel draped across the top of a random bookshelf. He smirks at the young man—well, it came out more like an envious scoff more than anything, really—at the other's short legs scissoring the air for purchase, the high vehicle bouncing the slightest in his struggle. He gives a heave to launch forward, just enough to cause the plank holding the hood to loosen and fall. Kit sprints in a breakneck bolt and catches the car hood before it snaps his apprentice in half.

He heaves for a moment, cheeks puffing with air in relief. Then, he frowns, sliding into a curt, derisive tone. "Now whatcha think you're doing? Tryna get yourself _killed_!" He shakes one pointed finger at the other. "If I had _half_ the mind or-or the _talent_ as you, I'd a—-" He cuts off, finger still in the air and doe-eyed stunned expression of his apprentice and grease on his cheeks. Kit punctuates with a sigh, and ruffles the younger's hair, and he did look kind of adorable with the grease on his cheeks. There's a grin he forces to appear. "Never mind, kid. You're fine."

Of course the young man asks what his boss meant.

Kit shrugs. The young man sliding out from inside the truck, and Kit closes the hood of the car. He asks if the truck has been fixed, and his apprentice launches off on the list of tweaks and fixtures completed. And Kit's grin shrinks and then grows, simultaneously proud and almost _annoyed_.

The young man looks up with wide eyes, mumbles an apology.

As Kit walks off, "I can't have my best man off himself over something _stupid_ , now can I?"

It's true. From nearly the first day on the job after finishing on his first job, Kit noticed the other's detailed eye and skill. His mother had said that her boy's been holding a wrench since he learned to grasp. Kit had thought it was an exaggeration. He supposed not, apparently. The first day Kit wheeled in a vehicle to show his apprentice the ropes, the boy got it on the first try. He's able to name all but five auto parts under a car, and almost always knows the solutions Kit is going to suggest before muttering so.

Have a leaking radiator? The boy is here with the welding and soldering equipment. Need an oil change? He's running for a drain pan, filter wrench, funnel, and gloves, only needing a glance at the vehicle's model.

Honestly, it's amazing; honestly, it's _frustrating_ because Kit's about convinced this kid is a goddamn _psychic_ the many times Kit's sentences don't finish before the kid fixes the solution. The kid's _gifted_ , he has to give the other that. The young man was practically half Kit's age when he started; he's much faster, more rigorous, more _punctual_ and _precise_ , and, and, and—

"Did I do something wrong, boss? About the hood, earlier."

Kit tucks the lighter in his pocket, the cigarette butt glows in the dimming sunlight. The day is coming to an end, the rush of customers gone. The kid should be leaving soon, he thinks.

Smoke disperses from his lips as he speaks. "Nah, nah. Just watch yourself next time, kiddo." He comes closer, rests a hand on the boy's shoulder.

The apprentice watches Kit take another drag. He's heard that Kit Walker has taken in a maid for some years, heard rumors that it was more than a _servitude_ at his home.

"How do you feel 'bout a raise?"

There's a sputter of a response, and " _why_?" is blurted before it's known.

"Like I said: I don't wanna lose my best mechanic here—sorry sir, _engineer_. Plus," Kit's smile grows, "I happen ta sees that little lady you walked here with that one time." He takes another drag of his cigarette. "Not like you can take her on a date with your salary currently." He smiles, seeing the young man's face light up. Kit shrugs; he tells that there's still grease on the other's face. When the boy only manages to spread it further across his face, Kit grabs a rag atop one of the file cabinets, offering to wipe the smeared grease off the other's cheeks. "Unless she likes _scruffy men_ ," he jokes, then saying that maybe she'll think the smudge will add to his boyish charm. He didn't say _boyish_ , of course.

"Thanks."

"You're a smart kid. I don't want to see you flunk out because of stupid shit." His fingers dig into the boy's cheek, the grease more stubborn than he expected. "Besides, who's supposed to take over the shop when I leave?"

"Are…are you serious?"

Kit smiles, the cigarette between his teeth. "Did I stutter?" He laughs, watching his apprentice bounce on his toes, acting very much the young age when he first arrived two years ago. "I'm seeing 'bout getting the papers tomorrow."

"Oh, Mr. Walker! Th—-!"

"Don't thank me yet. I still gotta whip ya into gear. You're still scruffy." He smiles.

His apprentice grins, giving a smart-alic remark about how a customer once came in needing new hubcaps, and Kit somehow bursting _three_ of the tires.

Kit ruffles the other's hair. Ash falls from his cigarette. "Sometimes it seems like you're better at my job than me. So ya better lay off, ya hear?" he jokes, heavily patting the boy's shoulder.

The boy nods vigorously. He's told to run on home, that Kit would close up for the night. The boy spits thank you after thank you, clumsily grabbing his jacket, lunchbox, and jumps into his little used convertible recently given by his father.

It's dark out. Kit calls a parting; a family car pulling up for a gas refill just as he's about to close.

The young man hurries home to enthusiastically tells his parents that he's to gain the garage when it's passed over. His mother clasps her hands. His father speaks that he's proud.

The young man wouldn't return to work the same, however. The following day, Kit Walker doesn't punch in, doesn't show up for that entire day or the next, having mysteriously vanished. When it's revealed on the news that his boss murdered his wife, the young man's mother glances at her son. Her husband shakes his head. Walker is emitted into an asylum soon after. Eyes wonder and dodge the young man, knowing that he was the last to be seen with Kit, knowing he was the man's apprentice. The young man wonders what had gone wrong.

* * *

 _ **Note: Since the request didn't have a specific gender given, I'm guessing a guy because the time period. Was that ok?**_

 _ **There had been someone who left the tags:**_ **IM ALIVE; I'm nonbinary so naturally I can assume the position of a boy or girl in a fic so this is so cool honestly I'm living; I NEED A SEQUEL BC THIS LITTLE SCRUFFY ENGINEER NEEDS TO BE HAPPY OK; ITLL BE LIKE A YEAR OR TWO LATER WHEN THEY MEET AGAIN AND HES RUNNING THE SHOP OR SOMETHING; AND THEN SUDDENLY KIT APPEARS AND IS LIKE 'any job openings' AND THEY KEEP WORKING TOO CLOSE ON THE JOB AND STUFF AGHH I LOVE THIS#THANK YOU FOR THIS; YOU ARE THE MVP; ILYSM**


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